realized that Peretz, being no idiot, knew the situation had just gone
critical. He had begun stalling for time. It wasn't going to work.
But after Ramirez finishes with this computer clown, he told himself,
Bill and I are next. And with that thought, he reached around under his
shirt and circled his fingers around the Walther.
He had been right.
"It's over, you little son of a bitch." Ramirez fired point blank into
Peretz' chest. The Israeli jerked backward, stumbled, and crashed,
slamming his head against the hard asphalt. He didn't move.
Uh-oh, Vance thought. Now it's our turn.
He was standing next to Bates, while around them were three bodies of
terrorists. Ramirez, however, was safely inside the open doorway, out
of range for Cally.
Does she realize what's about to happen?
She must have, because just as Ramirez leveled his black Beretta to
finish off what he had started, there was another burst of fire from
the direction of the gantry. It was the diversion Vance needed. He dove
for the tarmac, rolled, and extracted the Walther he had shoved into
his belt.
Come on, baby, keep giving me cover.
"Mike," Bates yelled, seeing the pistol as he, too, dove for the
tarmac, "shoot the bastard. Now."
Vance aimed for the doorway, but it was already closing, the steps
coming up. Sabri Ramirez was not a man to engage in gunplay for the fun
of it. He was about to be gone. A second later the main rotor, which
had been idling, immediately began to whine into acceleration.
"We blew it," Bates boomed, his voice now almost drowned by the huge GE
turboshafts.
"The Hyena," Vance muttered, pulling himself up off the asphalt.
"Headed back to his lair. And there's not a damned thing anybody can do
about it."
"Not with Isaac on board," Bates concurred. "Sorry I yelled. You really
didn't have a chance." He was shielding himself from the downdraft as
he tried to stand up. "The fucker is getting away without a scratch.
Looks like he pulled it off."
"Right," Vance said, watching the giant Sikorsky begin to lift. "But
maybe there's one thing left we can do. How about trying to remove that
bomb"--he pointed up at VX-1--"before that thing goes up?"
"What in hell are you talking about?" Bates turned to squint at the
silver spire. 'There's no way."
"Well, I don't know, what about using the Agusta? It's probably still
flyable." He had turned back to watch the Sikorsky bank into the
thinning fog. Ramirez was just barely visible through the windscreen,
smiling as he disappeared into the mist.
"There's no time. Peretz told me that VX-1 is set to lift off at seven
forty-eight. The bastard had it timed exactly." Bates glanced at his
watch. 'That's just a few minutes."
"No balls," Vance snorted. "Bill, for godsake, let's give it a shot.
Maybe we can at least disable it, turn it into a dud."
Bates was still dubious as he gazed upward. "Buddy, I don't want to be
hovering over that thing when the Cyclops kicks in. Do you realize--"
"Come on, where's your backbone." He waved to Cally, who was now coming
around the corner of the gantry. 'Thanks for not shooting me."
"When I saw Ramirez start killing everybody, I assumed you two were
next. It was then or never." She looked exhausted.
"You assumed right. We were on the hit list. Thanks." He kissed her on
the forehead, where her hair was still plastered. "Now will you help me
talk some sense into this guy? I say we could at least try to mess up
the bomb before the Cyclops launches it. They've got it programmed for
Souda Bay."
"You're kidding." Bates was transfixed.
"That's what he claimed. Come on, let's . . . hang on a second." He
turned and trotted over to the doorway of Launch, where he seized a
coil of electrical wire. "This may come in handy." Coming back, he
punched Bates' arm. "Let's give it a try. No guts, no glory."
"Souda Bay. Christ!" Bates glanced again at his watch. "Mike, we've got
less than nine minutes."